#in portuguese because i really meant it

[nofingjustaninchident]

⛧° will you be my prom date? - hoo boys °⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: headcannons for my favorite boys of how they would ask you on a date!

warnings: cursing, non-estabilished relationship, slight sexual allusions (nothing too NSFW), friends with benefits, characters are all 18+,

a/n: i had this idea in the middle of portuguese class and i loved it so now i'm writing cause i'm independent MUAHAHAHA- jk jk i'm fine (questionable) annd i already started writing that fic i told u guys about... it'll be good, i hope

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

⛧Jason Grace

He does not know how to ask a girl out.

Like, he has no fucking clue on how to do that. You see, he's a perfectionist in absolutely everything in his life, and would be no less concerned with his girl. Who, by the way, is not his girl. 'Yet', he keeps telling himself that.

So, of course that he has to have the most perfect plan of all on how to ask you out to prom.

He'd do absolutely averything to make you feel safe and loved, so when you told him a few weeks before that the most expected experience of your school-life was THE prom, he took that as a subtle cue that you wanted him to invite you to go with him.

It indeed was, but you would never tell that to anyone.

Of course, the first person he thinks to go to is Piper, since she knows you and she's a daughter of Aphrodite. Especially because of that last one.

So of course she advises him on how she thinks it's the best way to invite you to prom.

One day, you had a evening date on top of the Zeus cabin - you both found a spot that you could throw some blankets and lay down together, watching the stars. It was almost on routine, but tonight he was very much anxious.

"Right there it's Andromeda. There, Orion and a little bit further down, right there, it's Pegasus." You say, pointing the constelations to him as you always did. But tonight, he wasn't staring at the night sky. He was staring at you.

How could you be so beautiful with those soft lips, those cute cheeks, that kissable nose, those always happy eyes... you were just too beautiful. And it was just amazingly cute how your eyes shined and your smile got even brighter when you were talking about something you liked.

So he decided to just fuck the whole plan up. Which was definetly something that the Normal Jason would ever do, but this was Madly-In-Love Jason. He'd do it, for you.

"You wanna go to prom with me? Like, as my date?" He'd ask you. You snapped your head towards him as if you hadn't heard it quite right.

"Um... what?" You asked, confused it he really meant what he just asked.

"Do. You. Want. To. Go. To. Prom. With. Me?" He asked pausedly, making sure you understood. You felt your cheeks burn bright red and a smile creep up your lips.

You leaned forwards and connected your lips in a soft and tender kiss, giving him the answer he needed. "Thought you'd never ask."

⛧° Percy Jackson

He only discovered that the prom was gonna happen one week before it did.

And that's when it clicks to him why you're being all weird and evasive, refusing his kisses, hugs and the 'i need you rn' texts.

Sure you were just friends with benefits, but still hurt you quite a lot that he didn't even bother to ask you to check if you were even going to the prom.

Little did you know he had no idea there was going to be a prom.

So when he texted you this morning with a ‘meet me at the aquarium in twenty.’ you considered ignoring him. But maybe he was finally going to apologize, you hoped.

The first thing you saw when you got to the aquarium that was the usual spot of your dates, he was there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He wasn’t looking at you, instead he was looking at the mirror, fixing his… not messy hair?

That’s when you noticed. He was in a freaking tuxedo, which was a sight for sore eyes, his usually messy hair was all gelled up and he looked… even more handsome than usual.

When he looked at you, a smile immediately crept up his lips, and you were suddenly feeling weird in that old pair of jeans and a baby blue cropped. Still, he looked like he had never seen anything prettier than you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He said and walked towards you, kissing your cheek softly. You smiled and blushed, forgetting for a moment that you were still mad at him. He handed you the flowers, which you took gratefully from his hands.

When you looked up at him again, he seemed… guilty about something. He wasn’t even looking at you in the eye when he sighed and pulled you close to him, hugging your body.

“I’m so sorry, y/n/n, i’m so, so sorry. I swear i didn’t know that the prom was coming, i just- i’m sorry for being such an airhead.” He said, giving multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“It’s ok. I’m not mad anymore.” You said, smiling at the boy in front of you. “How can i even be mad when you literally call me to an aquarium in which you are in a freaking tuxedo?” Your asked, kissing his lips softly.

“Really? You forgive me?” He asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Of course i do.” You said. Then, you raised one hand to his hair and muffled it, making all messy again. “And i prefer your hair in its normal rebel condition.”

He smiled as you walked towards the aquarium that you two had visited multiple times before. The place of your first kiss, the first holding hands, the first date…

But when you got near the fish tank, he asks you to stop and close your eyes, so that’s what you do.

Five minutes later, he comes back to your side and smiles, “You can open it now.”

And when you opened… well, all the fish in the tank were in a formation that said ‘Prom?’, and your smile instantly brightened. The boy next to you had the biggest smile ever seen on earth’s surface, and it was the cutest thing ever.

“Of course i’ll go to prom with you, dumbass.” You said, pulling him down by his collar and giving him a very passionate kiss.

⛧° Leo Valdez

He just let life tell him the right moment.

Literally, he couldn’t care less to whether you both were going to the prom or not. He just wanted to make you happy as always.

So when he discovered that you indeed wanted to go to prom, he made his life’s most important work until this day: a metal rose that, when you pressed a button to the side, opened to a message of ‘Do you wanna go to prom with me?’ that he knew you’d like.

He made it and triple checked it, just to be sure it’d work. It did work, but he couldn’t keep the thought that probably something was gonna be ruined with his bad luck.

So, one day, he was in bunker nine, covered in grease and soot, his hair messy and a little oiled up. He had just finished the rose-mission and was getting his stuff together before leaving to cabin nine so he could take a shower and change into clean clothes.

That’s until you ruined his plans and came in unexpectedly.

“Leo?” You asked, getting inside the hot bunker. Lots of projects were in the table, on the walls and even on the floor. Lots of weird materials that you didn’t quite know the name to were spread all over the place. It was actually cute.

“Mi amor, is it you?” He asked, leaving the shadows to a very smiley, pretty and happy you. He thanked the gods that he had taken the rose out of his work table before you got there.

“Yeah, it is. Whatcha doing?” You asked, sitting down in a pouf that you told him to put there, moths before.

“Just, uh… some weird Leo Valdez stuff, y’know.” He said, jokingly.

When he looked back at you, the tip of his nose caught fire. You were just… ethereal. Just sat there, looking around his work, hair pulled back in a messy braid, the small little pout that you always seemed to have in your lips…

He needed to do that right now.

Right now it’s the perfect moment.

Hell, every moment is the perfect moment. As long as it’s with you.

“Hey, princesa, i made something for you. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but, uh… yeah.” He said, getting closer and crouching down in front of you.

He took the metal rose out of his pocket and handed it to you. Your face immediately turned into a bright smile, grabbing the rose from his hand and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Aw, honey, thank you! It’s so pretty!” You said, amazed by the beauty of the metal in front of you.

“Just, hm..” He said as he pressed a button in the back of the rose.

Thanks the gods, Tyche decided to be on his side today.

It occurred just right in the way he planned. The rose opened slowly, revealing a small little message. When you read it - with difficulty from the dyslexia -, your eyes watered.

You pulled him in for a hug, not caring it he was all greasy and sweaty and dirty. “Yes! Of course i will, babe!” She said, giving kisses all over his face.

“Te quiero, princesa.” He whispered and kissed you again.

⛧° Frank Zhang

He was nervous.

His hands were all sweaty and he wasn’t sure if you were going to accept the prom invite.

Fine, you were almost dating by now. But what if you stopped liking him? What if you found someone else? What if you hated him? What if-

Well, he was overthinking. A lot. And he just wished everything would go smoothly, and definitely not wrong. Nope. Anything is gonna go wrong here, folks.

You’re going to a little date dinner in the evening, you’ll can’t about your days and, in the end, he’ll ask you to be his prom date. Everything will be completely okay.

And at the beginning it really was. He got himself to calm down and was relatively fine, compared to earlier, and you just talked together at the beach, talking about your days.

The whole problem began when you mentioned the subject ‘prom’.

Oh, look at his hands getting all sweaty again.

He’s kind of scared, but he forces himself to ask you the question anyways.

“Hey, y/n, i was w-wondering if… if you-“ Before he got to finish, the boy got so nervous he transformed himself into a dog.

Why a dog, you ask? Because he remembered one day that you mentioned to him that dogs were your favorite animal on the world.

And he never forgets anything that you tell him about yourself.

But he got so, so embarrassed, thinking that he had ruined every chance that he had with you.

Little did he knew you just fell in love even more.

When he shifted back into his human form, you were still giggling, and he was super embarrassed about the situation.

“I’m sorry, i… i kinda shift when i got nervous..” He mumbled under his breath, looking at his hands.

You chuckled a little more and pulled him to you, giving him a kiss to the cheek. “It’s okay. Now, what were you gonna ask me?”

“Uh… do you… do you wanna go to prom with me?” He asked the question, and your smile just brightened. You kissed him in the lips now and felt him melting onto your lips.

“Of course, big guy.”

a/n: i kinda liked it???? like what. oh, thank you SO MUCH ALL OF YOU CAUSE I REACHED TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY LIKES LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? LIKE, I MADE MY DIRST POST THREE DAYS AGO, TOPS!! Im just so proud and thankful, i love you all! my 24 besties 😭😭

[itoshiexx]

mi vida

synopsis: sae never thought someone could become his life, but that changed when you came.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 749 | warnings: established relationship, fluff

notes: welcome back to "things i wrote on a whim when my boss wasn't at the office"!! apparently i write a lot better in english without much planning, so yeah. this idea came to me based on a personal experience, since i call my boyfriend "minha vida" (which is the same for "mi vida"/"my life" in portuguese) and i never really thought i could consider someone to be my life before him.

i really really hope you like it, and i wanna thank you all so much for all the love you've given to Unworthy (but chosen), every note and follower made me super happy! <3

and also, i'm so sorry if my description of the spanish culture is not accurate and for any english mistakes!

during his time in spain, sae learned a lot of things. mainly, how to improve his soccer career even more, striving to become the best in the world after already being the best in his country. 

he was a genius, of course, so it wasn’t really hard to learn the language or get acquainted with the city of madrid, which was a lot warmer than japan — in many ways. however, it was really fucking hard to get used to the customs of the spanish people and its culture, considering it was so different from the japanese. they were extremely welcome, and sae was anything but. if anything, he was even more closed than typical japanese people. 

in spain, people were always greeting each other with a kiss on each cheek, showing off bright smiles and making conversation with strangers. friends talked loudly among each other, giving hugs and always touching somehow. the concept of personal space? totally nonexistent. in short, it was weird. 

but nothing was weirder than couples. 

the concept of love was already foreign to sae. he didn’t understand how a feeling could envelop one so much and make it forget about the rest of the world. he didn’t know how such an abstract thing, with no sense of logic whatsoever, could be so overwhelming to the point of taking one’s life completely, until all you could see, think and feel was your significant other.

most of all, he couldn’t fathom how someone could become your life. 

“te amo, mi vida,” was what he used to hear an old couple say to each other. they were the owners of sae’s favorite restaurant, a small little place in the suburbs of Madrid, and always treated him with a kindness he didn’t deemed himself worthy of. 

at first, he wasn’t able to comprehend what the sentence meant. he could barely write it on google translate to try to get its meaning, and he didn’t really care enough. though, as the time went by and sae became more fond of the couple, he eventually gathered the courage to ask the woman about it. and he was very surprised to hear the answer. 

“it means ‘i love you, my life’,” she said, smiling from ear to ear and handing a glass of salted kombucha tea to sae. it was one of the reasons he adored the place so much — it was the only restaurant he found that served his favorite drink. 

the older itoshi could only stare, dumbfounded, and mumble, “…why?”

the woman laughed at the boy’s naiveté. “why, you ask? because that’s what he is to me.” 

sae only stared in silence, too stunned to speak.

“i… i don’t understand,” he confessed. it sounded silly, and kind of pathetic, but at that moment he didn’t really care. the woman gave another smile, this time an understanding countenance, and placed her wrinkly hand on his shoulder. 

“you will understand one day, boy. and when your person comes, make sure to bring them here, right? i’d like to meet them!” 

the soccer player wanted to tell her that it would never happen. that the itoshi sae had no time for foolish things like love, and he most certainly would never love someone so much to the point of seeing them as his life. his life was soccer, and his goal was to become the best in the world. 

there was nothing else. 

oh, how he bit his tongue. 

it was at the age of twenty two when he entered the restaurant once again, and this time, not alone. you were walking by his side, with your hand intertwined in his, chatting excitedly while he just listened. a small smile was on his face, and his features were impossibly soft, in a way they only got around you. 

you, who were light in the darkness, who were comfort after a long day of practice, who was the one he loved most. you, who was the definition of home in every sense of the word. the only one that could make his heart swell so much it made it hard to breathe. 

he pulled your chair for you to sit like a true gentleman, and sat right next to you, always in need to touch you somehow. a hand was placed on your thigh while the other one opened the menu. and he turned to you, voice gentle like you could break:

“so, what would you like, mi vida?”

you, who was his life.

© 2023 itoshiexx. do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on here or other sites.

[footygirl114]

Enemiga (Alexia Putellas X Reader)

Yet another fit motivated by the World Cup! Enjoy and please let me know what we think :)

Having moved to England from Portugal when you were 10, meant that you understood what it meant to be Portuguese, but you were able to grow up with more opportunities. Those opportunities led you to playing for Manchester United, but you never wavered with your national team loyalties. The feeling of leading your home country to its first world cup was like any other. 

You were becoming a known name in the women’s football world, being a CDM and the pivot both of your teams needed. You elevated the players around you and the Portuguese team had the talent already but making this world cup finally put the world on notice. You were gaining the attention of some of the big teams outside of England, but you told your agent that you would not entertain any of them until after the world cup. 

The month leading up to the world cup, you deleted all social media off of your phone and only stayed connected with your friends and family that were close to you. It helped to keep your mind focused on the upcoming games and stay connected with your teammates. This is why when you were out for a walk in New Zealand a week out from the start of the tournament you had no idea who you would run into. 

You had taken to getting up early with the jet lag, meaning you were out at 530am for walks. It was peaceful and gave you time to relax and let the weight of the game off your shoulders since no one was around. Because of this, you were not paying attention to your surroundings and when you turned a corner on the quiet street you ran right into a solid body. 

“oh my gosh I am so sorry” you said as you grabbed the persons arm to steady both your self and her. The spark that shocked your arm when you did shocked you and stepped back losing your balance falling flat on your ass. 

You could hear her stifle a chuckle as she reached down and offering you a hand with a “I am sorry too, I wasn’t looking.” 

Feeling your cheeks blush in embarrassment you pull your hand from hers and brush the dirt off your arms from when you landed and you say “It’s really my fault.”

She smiles and you cant help but think how beautiful she is, shaking your head of the thought you miss her say “you missed a spot.” When she reaches out and brushes her hand over your ass wiping the dirt off she smirks and adds “I think I got it.”

At this point you can feel your cheeks burning as you squeak out “thank you.” 

She smirks and steps closer and says “anytime” letting it hang in the balance, her eyes on you. 

You realise she’s looking for your name and you say “Y/N.” 

“Y/N” she repeats with a wink.

A horn honks behind you shaking you out of your stare and you look up at her and say “I should go.” 

She nods and says “I hope to run into you again Y/N.” 

Feeling the blush still you chuckle and say “me too” as you step around her and start to walk down the street. Holding yourself back from running away after that display. Before you get to far you hear her say “Nice ass Y/N, I’ll try not to make you fall on it next time.” 

Immediately you blush and make your steps quicker as you put more distance between the two of you. The whole walk back to the hotel you cant help but think that if it was another time you might have stayed and flirted with her, but the last thing you needed right now was to be distracted by a pretty girl you will never see again. 

**

The rest of the week you pay more attention as you go out on your morning walk, you were not going to be pulled into the web of the pretty girl again. You also made sure to keep at least 2 blocks between you and that corner any time you were out. 

The morning of the first group stage game had you sitting in a strategy meeting with your coaching staff. Spain was not going to be an easy game and with the best player in the world being on the opposing team everyone knew it would be tough. You were tasked with being her shadow, making sure she never had any time on the ball and making her life hell. 

You were confident in your defence to keep everyone else in check, but by shutting her down you would be limiting their options. One of the things that you always did pre-game was to make sure you did not get distracted by the other team’s warm up, so you never looked their way. It didn’t matter to you who you played you knew what you needed to do. 

Walking out behind your keeper was a surreal feeling. Your countries first ever world cup game, knowing how hard your team worked to get here made it that much better. It made you that much more focused on the game and not the screaming fans, or the players walking beside you. 

It wasn’t until 30 seconds into the game when you were forced to defend a throw deep in your end after a long ball off the kick off, did it click in your head. As soon as you stepped up behind the opposing number 11, and placed your arm on her back to keep her there. She turned her head to check her options and you met her eyes. Immediately the recognition on her face and the smirk lets you know she also recognised you. 

Movement in the corner of your eye brings your attention back to the game, you stick to your game plan and remain within 5 feet of her at all times. In the 18th minute a head injury causes the play to stop, and she walks closer to you and says “funny running into you here.’

You turn toward her and are thankful your cheeks are already red from running that the blush won’t be noticed as you say “good luck trying to shake me.” 

She smirks and says “Bring it Y/N, but I won’t go easy on you, I already know how to get you on your cute ass/” 

Before you can answer the refs whistle brings you back to the game, shaking your head you turn and see your centre back giving you a raised eye brow and you shrug your shoulders and turn to track Alexia on the free kick. 

The rest of the game continues the same, you never give Alexia the space she needs. She’s constantly having to turn and play backwards or you were reading her movements and intercepting passes before she has a chance to complete them. You can tell she’s frustrated but when Spain puts one past your keeper in the 85th minute, her shoulders relax a bit. 

You know it's over as you haven’t even got a shot on net in the second half has Spain has had all the possession. The game finishes out without another goal but you are definitely annoyed that they were able to get the one. You know for your first world cup game you are happy for how your team played and that you were able to hold out against Spain but you really wanted to hold on for the draw. 

After hugging most of your team-mates and consoling your keeper you started to shake the other teams hands. You saw Ona, your club teammate and immediately smiled and pulled her into a big hug. After exchanging pleasantries she says with a smirk “You really got under Ale’s skin today Y/N.” 

You chuckle and say “it was kinda the point Ona.” 

“No no” she shakes her head “I mean yeah you played well, but she came over and asked me all about you post game.” 

“what?” 

She smirks again and say “I think you got under her skin more than just how you played.” 

You feel the blush on your cheeks as you squeak out “I did?” 

She nods and before she can say anything else, Alexia walks up beside you both and says “What did you say to make Y/N blush Ona? I thought she saved that for me?” 

Feeling your cheeks heat up at Ona’s laugh and response of “we were talking about you Ale.” 

You smack Ona’s shoulder and say “Ona!” 

Alexia smirks and adds “Couldn’t help but talk about me?” 

Shaking your head you say “I am leaving now, good luck Ona” 

“Bye Y/N” Ona says. 

“what no good luck for me?” Alexia asks with a smirk. 

Shaking your head you say “No, you don't need it La reina” and you turn on your heel walking off the field with a chuckle. You catch yourself when you make it to the tunnel and shake your head of the smile, not wanting anyone to see you smiling over a pretty girl. 

**

The night following the next game, which you were able to pull out a 3-1 win against Zambia, where you set up 2 of your teams goals from great free kicks. You were lying in bed reading when you felt your phone go off with a text. Figuring it was your mom you checked your phone and confused when you saw an unknown number. 

unknown: You looked very good out there. You are so much more free when you play without having to be stuck to a cute Spaniards hip.

Before you can answer another text came through. 

Unknown: Don’t kill Ona, I forced her to give me your number. 

Unknown: It’s Alexia by the way, I should have lead with that.

You chuckle at her ramble, with the multiple texts. 

Y/N: No promises not to kill Ona, but thank you for the compliment. 

Alexia: Y/N, I mean it.

Alexia: You shut me down, which is not easy to do, you are an amazing player. 

The best player in the world telling you that even over text had you blushing in the dark at your phone. You have no idea how you gained her attention but you really liked that you did. 

Y/N: Well thank you. I am just happy we got a win at our first world cup. 

The conversation continues for a few minutes before you both bid each other goodnight, as you lie in bed close to falling asleep you think about your plans before the world cup. You came into this wanting to have no distractions and play your best football, but you cant hep but think about why you were playing in the first place. You loved the game and want to enjoy playing it, which you haven’t enjoyed more since being here, and getting to represent your country, and what harm was a little flirting with the enemy. 

[royalarchivist]

Pac: It's too much coins, you know? It's too much money! 10,000 coins, that's a lot of money!

Fit: No, for you? It's worth it. What's mine is yours, what's mine is yours, Pac.

Pac: Aww... No, I- [Stammers and laughs] You broke me, I don't even know what to say! Not even in Portuguese!

Fit: It's all good Pac, you know, 'cuz– we're a family, so we gotta stick together!

Pac: The best family ever, thank you so much. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Can we hug?

I still frequently think about how sweet it was that Fit gave Pac enough coins to help him unlock Create. It was something that meant a lot to both q!Pac and cc Pac, and it was really sweet to see. :')

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Fit: So, you're trying to unlock Create, right?

Pac: Uh-huh, yes. I have 5,700 coins and 15,000 missing.

Fit: So... I was talking with Ramon, and it turns out that– well, I've been trying to unlock Create so that Ramon can use it, but since you are technically– you count as his father... If you unlock Create, it means that Ramon will be able to use it as well. So what I'm gonna do Pac, I'm gonna give you all my coins so you can unlock Create really soon, so that way Ramon can have it.

Pac: WHAT? No– really? Are you serious, are you being serious?

Fit: Yeah! because I'm not planning to use Create, I was just going to unlock it for Ramon, so if you have it, then he gets to use it too. So everyone- everyone wins. Everyone's happy.

Pac: [Stammers] What- I- I- I don't have words to thank you. Thank you so much, Fit! But that's so much money, we can't spend it on these things now!

Fit: Well, ok– so I want to give you– I just want to have a few extra for emergency cookies. If I give you 10,000 coins, would that be ok?

Pac: I- really? I- I- [Stammers] I don't even know what- what to say, Fit!

Fit: Yeah, yeah! I mean, you know, I just– I just– you know, I think... it just works out for everyone.

Pac: It's too much coins, you know? It's too much money!

Fit: No, no...

Pac: 10,000 coins, that's a lot of money!

Fit: No, for you? It's worth it. What's mine is yours, what's mine is yours, Pac. What's mine is yours.

Pac: Aww... No, I- [Stammers and laughs] You broke me, I don't even know what to say! Not even in Portuguese!

Fit: Oh, well– it's all good Pac, it's all good, you know, 'cuz– we're a family, so we gotta stick together!

Pac: The best family ever, thank you so much. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Thank you so much Ramon for the [ ??? ]. How cool. Can we hug?

Fit: Of course, of course, of course! Bring it in, Ramon. Bring it in, bring it in. There we go.

Pac: Thank you so much Fit, thank you so much Ramon. I will repay you. I will try to be the best Create-user of all.

Fit: Oh, sweet. Yeah, I have complete faith in you, Pac. I know you can do it.

Pac: Thank– like, with great things comes great responsibility, right?

Fit: Oh yeah, mhmm!

Pac: I think uhm, from- from– I don't know who said that, but you know, I will try my best to use the Create as smart as I can so I can get some resources for you as well, Fit. And I'm gonna pay you back! If you- if you actually handed me like, 10,000 coins, oh my god that's so much money! [Laughs]

Fit: No, you don't have to pay me back, Pac. You don't have to pay me back.

Pac: R-re– Ok, are you sure about–? I insist, you know?

Fit: Oh, just having you around is payment enough, Pac! Just having you around is payment enough.

Pac: Oh, that's so sweet Fit, I'm speechless, you know. I'm speechless. Thank you so much! Like, oh my god–

[duc-kie]

so... if you want some F1 requests I had this stupid idea for Lando where his ex girlfriend is watching the race and he gets podium. they maybe are still in love and she congratulates him? (sorry for any misspelling, I'm portuguese)

I can’t tell if I like this or think it’s awfully cringe. either way i’ve had fun writing this and it did take a while but it’s still a good start into getting to write as much as I did again.

thank you dearly for the request and I hope you enjoy reading this <3

———————————————————————

you and Lando broke up a few months ago but you promised him you’d be at his home race and no matter how much you still missed him and it hurt you everyday you weren’t going to break the promise.

you were on the plane with a friend that decided to come with you. she was sleeping but you couldn’t. you were an hour away from landing and the race was tomorrow and even thinking about Lando made you wonder if you’ve made the right choice to attend the race.

you were watching a film, trying to calm your nerves and it did help a little but the feeling in your stomach was beginning to get overwhelming.

finally the plane landed and you woke your friend up.

when you two got to your hotel rooms you said goodnight to each and you unpacked your suitcase before throwing yourself on your bed and letting out a loud sigh.

you had a hard time falling asleep but you eventually did.

—

it was the next day and you woke up exhausted. you put on your dress and did your makeup.

your friend was already ready and waiting for you at the door. you stepped out of the bathroom and smiled at her. “you look amazing!” she said excitedly. “so do you” you said back giving her a little giggle. “are you still nervous because of Lando?” she asked and your face immediately dropped at the mention of his name. “yeah I’m scared to see him.” you answered, flashing her a sad smile. “you’ll be okay don’t worry I’ll be with you all the time” she encouraged you.

when you told your friend you were going to attend your ex’s race she wasn’t at all pleased with your decision. she held you when you were sobbing because of your breakup and she knew you still loved him. she tried to change your mind but when she figured you weren’t backing out any time soon she gave up. she decided that the least she can do is go with you. and you were of course happy to have her with you.

when you arrived at the track she held your hand and you walked in. you could feel a lot of eyes on you but that wasn’t even near the scariest thing on your mind at the moment.

—

the race has begun and you watched the cars zoom past you. the race was intense and it almost made you forget about Lando.

soon the finish line was crossed by the first few drivers and Lando managed to get p2. you were impressed and happy for him. you knew how much this meant to him.

you watched him go hug his team and his dad. the smile and the overly happy eyes on his face got your heart to melt.

you weren’t sure if Lando knew you were there or even if he wanted you to be but you decided you were still going to leave your thoughts behind and go congratulate him.

“what an amazing race” your friend told you with excitement in her eyes. “yeah, it was really intense” you replied. “well I need a drink. are you coming with?” she asked. “I’ll join you later I need to do something first” you answered and she nodded before leaving.

you let out a heavy breath and started walking towards the mclaren garage.

when you got to the garage you were met with a bunch of happy, surprised and confused faces, which you were expecting. you smiled at the team and asked if they could tell you where the driver you were looking for is.

sadly none of the people there could tell you his exact location. you said thank you and walked out. you weren’t going to give up just yet.

you decided to take a walk around the paddock.

—

quite some time has passed and you still haven’t found Lando. you got a notification on your phone and it was your friend asking if you were okay and if you were coming any time soon. you answered that you’re fine but that you don’t feel like clubbing so you’ll just walk back to your hotel and you started walking towards the exit with a disappointed frown imprinted on your face.

you were looking for some chapstick in your bag when you suddenly bumped into some. you immediately started apologising but when you looked at the person you bumped into you saw the very familiar face of your ex boyfriend.

“y/n?” he said with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “oh my god, Lando, I’m so sorry.” you said. “i’ve been looking for you for forever. I just wanted to say congratulations on p2.” you said with a visibly nervous expression.

Lando was just looking into your eyes for what felt like hours but it was probably a few seconds. your stomach started twisting and your nerves were killing you. you were about to walk off feeling completely rejected and mad at yourself for even thinking this was a good idea.

but suddenly his lips curled into a smile. “I’m really happy to see you.” he said and you felt a tsunami of relief wash through your body.

“well I promised you I’d be here didn’t I?” you said smiling up at him. “I didn’t think you’d still remember. I’m quite impressed.” he said and you both laughed.

“are you leaving already?” he asked and you lightly sighed. “I was supposed to meet with my friend but I honestly don’t feel like drinking or partying.” you said with a lopsided smile. “you’re welcome to join me for a coffee or perhaps even some dinner if you’d like?” he offered and you nodded. “I’d like that.” you answered.

[julianalvarez9]

daddy's day / rúben dias

author's note: need to stop having ideas for this man out of nowhere. wrote this in like, 2 hours, so not proofread at all, just wanted to get it out in time 😮‍💨 feedback is very much appreciated, as always! <3

summary: it was father's day, and even if rúben, technically, still wasn't one, you decided it would be fun to wake him up with a cake and some morning sex to celebrate the day.

warnings: SMUT!!! oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, badly traslated portuguese.

wc: 1.5k words.

you knew how strict ruben's diet was during the season. you hoped that, now that he was on holiday, he would lose it a little.

the cupcake was safely stored in the box it had since buying it in the bakery, and you felt giddy with excitement, trying to not make any noises as you were going up the stairs to your shared bedroom in the summer villa in portugal, where you two were staying. hopefully, rúben would still be asleep, like he was when you slipped out of bed earlier, when you went to retrieve the secret present.

peeking through the half-closed door, into the room, you saw your boyfriend soundly asleep. he had his top half on show, muscles making you salivate at the mere sight, while his bottom half was hidden behind the silk sheets. he had one one arm behind his head, and the other resting on his low abdomen, making him look as if he was sculpted by the gods himself. to you, he was.

you felt slightly guilty for waking him up, but in reality, he had already slept in more than he normally would have. your feet were soft against the carpet, wanting to avoid waking him up and ruining the surprise. you rested the little box in the bedside table at his left, and now, with your two hands free, you could use one to support your weight on the bed, swinging your right leg to straddle his lap. 

rúben's eyes remain closed, although you knew he must have woken up, given that your boyfriend was a known light sleeper. but even if you hadn’t known that fact, his calloused hands finding your waist would be enough alert of his woken state. still, he didn’t say anything, choosing to play pretend instead.

“baby, wake up,” you whined, and the littlest smile grazed his lips, “i have a surprise for you”.

that seemed to pick his interest, because he tried to open his eyes, but not successfully, given the excessive sunlight that painted the room. “you know it’s not my birthday, right, anjo?” he said, squinting his eyes to catch your expression. you nodded, but still, lifted slightly from his lap to retrieve the little bakery box.

he groaned in discontent at the loss of your body against his, but soon enough, you were pressed against him again; the silk sheet and your lace bottoms the only layers separating rúben and you. one of his hands found home in your waist, again, while the other one was kept under his head, in a makeshift pillow, that held his head higher, to maintain his focus on you. “it might not be your birthday, but it is father’s day”, you pointed out, opening the box to show the little round white cake, decorated with little red hearts.

the red letters on top that read “let’s eat this cake and have sex” remained hidden to rúben, who now was completely awake. you were too concentrated sweeping your finger over the cake and tasting the frosting to really see your boyfriend’s surprised expression. “you’re not a dad yet,” you rushed to explain, and the way he smiled, with his whole teeths on display, had you feeling warm inside. “but you could be a year from now”.

“so, are we celebrating in advance?” rúben giggled, and you shifted over him, now feeling his hardened member close to your heated center. he got up now, supporting his weight onto his elbows, and with this new position, he could see what the red letters said. his brows shoot up, curious if the sentence that could be read truly represented what you meant, and you only laughed, getting another taste of the frosting. it was a clear provocation given the pleased noise you made, and the ‘plop’ sound your finger made when it left your lips.

rúben dived right in, capturing your lips against his in a heated kiss that was interrupted sooner rather than later. “we’ll save this for later, yeah?” he said with a rough voice, taking in his hands the box that was placed on his abdomen to rest on the bedside table, again. you pouted “you didn’t even have a taste”, at which he replied, “interested in tasting other things first, anjo”.

you didn't comply when he swapped your bodies, now him being the one hovering over you. this way, he could kiss you how hard and deep he wanted, not afraid of dropping anything to the floor. it turned heated and messy quickly, with his wet kisses making their way onto the column of your neck, and down. “rub-ruben, please,” you begged, already feeling too hot under his ministrations. he reached with his kisses all the way down to your center, and with the help of his hands, rúben opened your legs further. “patience, baby. i need you to be all nice and wet before, yeah?”.

you nodded eagerly, and rúben chuckled at your enthusiasm that could be seen in your undergarments, which your boyfriend quickly took off you. even if he tried to play it cool, rúben was as hungry for you as you were for him, and it quickly showed when he dived right in, licking a teasing stripe up your pussy that had you bucking your hips against his mouth. he used one of his hands, that was previously holding the outside of your legs, to your stomach, making sure you were still against the mattress, so he could keep lapping at your folds like he was a starved man.

whether intentionally or not, his nose kept bumping into your clit every time his tongue slipped back inside your wet hole, and it had you rolling your eyes and arching your back in pleasure. “not gonna last long, rubs,” you warned, feeling your orgasm was fast approaching, but it seemed to have spurred him on: he didn’t take his eyes off you for a moment, instead, continued licking, nibbling and swirling his tongue in your heated center with renewed hunger, until you couldn’t take it anymore, and thus, exploding into his mouth.

his chin glistened with your arousal when he came back to hover over you, and you lifted slightly off the bed to be able to kiss him. he moaned against your lips when your hand found his dick, free since your last encounter the night before, and already leaking pre-cum. it felt painfully hard, so you stroked it expertly, before rúben grasped your wrist. “need to cum inside of you, bonita”.

your moans at the filthy words he says answer him, even when you can’t form a coherent sentence at the moment. he taps his cock against your entrance and looks into your eyes for approval, but the only answer he gets is a whine, followed by a strangled beg. “please, rúben, need you inside of me”.

he obliges, like he always does when it comes to you. being inside of you like this, completely bare, still feels new to both of you, and it heightens the pleasure incommensurably. rúben gets inside of you quickly, pushing the first few inches in, and you both gasp at the intrusion. you shut your eyes tightly due to the pleasure and he stops, afraid of hurting you with his length, so he pulls out before he’s even all the way inside.

“no, no, please,” you beg, again, while wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his middle, trying to keep him buried inside of you. “more,” you say, voice hoarse due to the screams, and rúben goes in again with renewed force, bottoming inside of you this time. “won’t last long if you keep squeezing me like this, anjo,” he grunts, and you arch your back against him, chests clashing together.

it doesn’t take long before a knot forms in your belly for the second time that morning. it’s difficult for rúben to snap his hips against yours, when you’re trapping him inside with your legs, but he doesn’t complain. instead, he turns to whisper the filthiest words into your ear. “you gonna let me fill this pussy, eh?” he rhetorically asks, “gonna make me a dad, yeah?”.

and with that, the knot snaps like a rubber band; your orgasm crashing over you with such force that it takes rúben down too, tight ropes of white painting your warm walls. your boyfriend’s careful not to crush you when he inevitably collapses, his warm exhales arising goosebumps over your neck, where his head is currently tucked in.

“you’re gonna be the best dad,” you say confidently, caressing his soft, warm brown locks that fall over his forehead, sticking there due to the small layer of sweat over both your bodies. “i can see it. a little one, with dias printed on their back, running around”. rúben sighs, and he can’t possibly tell you how much he has been thinking about it lately, ever since you two had the conversation of starting a family together.

“i only want them to look like you” he smiles, lifting his head up from the crook of your neck to see your flushed face. “a mãe mais linda di mundo” (the most beautiful mom in the world).

[memecucker]

The relationship between colonialism and religion is more complicated than the Civilization game where you’re trying to score a religious victory and it’s easier to convert places you conquer.

It’s not a matter of religion being imposed purely for the purpose of religion being imposed even if that may have been the personal motives of individual colonizers because even if there was a truly missionary motive these missions could only exist insofar as it was economically sustainable and oftentimes this takes the form of exploitation of the indigenous population.

Also the flat conception of religious colonialism overlooks how as colonialism progressed as a type of “social technology” there was in many places a shift away from seeking to replace indigenous organized religions (if they were present in the first place) towards recruiting the indigenous religious authorities to the colonial side.

Like for example with the colonies of the Iberian powers there was no separation of church and state and I don’t just mean in the sense of “the state imposed religious dogma and the church officially endorsed the state” I mean basic everyday functions of the state relied upon services of the church. Eg; If a colonial Governor wanted to say, requisition corvee labor from villages for a building project and he wished to know the populations of these villages in order to decide which to pull laborers he wouldn’t be looking at any state mandated census but instead would rely upon the archives and records of the Catholic Church because records would be kept of church attendance. If the governor wanted to hunt some rebel named “Diego of San Juan” he’d look at baptismal records to find examples of people named “Diego” and who they’re related to.

This meant that Spanish and Portuguese colonialism had an actual material interest in enforcing religious homogeneity and Catholic supremacy because that’s how their colonial states functioned. The colonial bureaucracy was in fact synonymous with the Church’s bureaucracy and so if some people weren’t Catholic they existed outside the Church which meant they existed (at least partially) outside the State. One example that’s a bit relevant is the original version the “National Commission on Indigenous Peoples” in the Philippines was set up during the American occupation and was called “Bureau of Non-Christian Tribes” because the groups in question are largely people who existed outside of direct Spanish colonial control (and wouldve been labeled “savages” in the 19th century) and hence “non-Christian”.

Anyway in the case of the Portuguese colonial empire in Asia this wound up being part of the reason for its collapse. By making their state function in the requirement that it’s subjects be observant Catholics the Portuguese had a lot of trouble making allies because if indigenous elites could be persuaded to convert then great but if they didn’t then they were gonna get really pissed off especially when they start hearing the Portuguese are torturing people under their rule that feel the same. And so without a network of allies the Portuguese colonial empire in Asia began to fall apart leaving only Goa, Macau and East Timor. Elsewhere the Portuguese had been replaced by the Dutch, English and French all of whom had systems of governance which was not as so dependent on doctrinal supremacy as the Iberians eg; the Dutch agreed to help the Shogunate put down a Christian revolt in 1638 and the East India Company actually banned Christian missionaries from operating in its territories until 1813 when Parliament forced them to allow Christian missionaries to preach.

Now of course the EIC example is in particular interesting because what you’re basically seeing is the colonial state shedding its reliance on the Christian Church in favor of courting the support of indigenous religious leaders and recruiting them into the colonial apparatus but at the same time you have churches seeking to operate whats can be considered a type of “rival” colonial project that would have an almost parasitic relationship in that the churches profited in their own way while also in a way undermining the local legitimacy of the official colonial state.

[mshalfemptygirl]

The Prince Agent (S.R)

Plot: Reader is called to help Spencer with a case and things get too cute.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Dr!Fem!Reader

Contents: Really quicky mention to kidnapping and lots of fuffy

A/N: guys it’s my first fic, so let me know if you guys liked it, if you need a part 2. There are some translations at the end for you to understand the fic. Just give support and love. Thank you very much. Enjoy! 

I never knew exactly where linguistics was going to take me, but this is too much. I was at the police station, dressed an updated version of what it was meant to be Mary Stuart all because I helped my teacher with an Scotch Language Class this afternoon. You know, I'm in the postdoctoral program and sometimes we need to help our teacher and that's mean look ridiculous when they ask you to do a "favor" to them. So, I'm here, next to the door, feeling lost and angry for not have time to change my outfit. They said that just need to find an Agent called Dr. Spencer Reid to translate a little girl who was saved by the team. It gonna be easy, but no.

I notice that there is a man looking at me, he’s next to bullpens with some paper in his right hand. He is tall and very handsome by the way. In fact, he's wearing a tie that makes him look really HOT but I can't think about those things at such a delicate moment like this, I need to focus. I walked towards him, looking at the floor because in addition to the long dress, I was wearing high heels and I didn't want to embarrass myself in the middle of the police station. When I stopped in front of him, he put the papers on the table and gave me a small smile.

“Excuse me, where can I find Dr. Spencer Reid?” I returned the smile, wishing it was him.

“Well, right here. I’m Dr Spencer Reid, nice to meet you. You should be Dr. Y/N L/N. Or maybe Princess Y/N L/N?” he give me a big smile. “Can you follow me?” I felt my face burn, he was making fun of me and it made me a thousand times more nervous. I start follow him to the hallway with many rooms, the walls were white and light blue, there is a clock on the wall.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time for change. And It supposed to be Mary Stuart. So it’s Queen Y/N L/N”. He nodded while he run his hand over his hair. He stopped to think about something. Even nervous, I can't take my eyes off him. “Did you know that Mary became Queen of Scots at only six days of age and Mary’s last night was spent drafting an elaborate will in which all her servants were remembered. On the day of her execution, she appeared in her customary black cloak and with a white veil over her head and she then dropped the cloak to reveal a crimson red dress?” he ask me, I can see the excited in his face. I couldn't help but smile big, he's so endearing, so cute. I think he's trying to make me more comfortable.

“Yes!!! And she also was the first woman to practice golf in Scotland. She even caused a scandal when she was seen playing the game at St Andrews within days of her husband Darnley's murder. She was a such badass, I like her” I said. Then I remember about the little girl, they must have been in a hurry to help her. “But Dr. Reid, changing the subject, can we talk about the little girl? What you want me to do?” the expression on his face changed from a happy face to a worried one.

He explained to me that she was only 6 years old, she is physically fine and she was rescued from a kidnapping a few hours ago, they couldn't find her family and they couldn't ask her questions because she only speaks Portuguese. That's why they called me. It looks like his team has been looking into this possible unsub for months. Well, now I'm more relieved to be dressed like this, she deserves a good time in the middle of this chaos, I hope she likes princesses. Doctor Reid will walk me into the room so I can be the bridge between him and Mila.

I was the first to enter the room, there were some children's things on a table in the corner of the room. In the center of the room was a shaggy green rug and a table. Mila was drawing on the table, she had her back to me, focused on drawing and there is another blonde woman in the room with her, it must be another agent. She got up and wished him good luck. I looked at him and he nodded for me to start.

"Oi Mila, me falaram que tinha uma princesa por aqui” ¹ she looked at me and took to give me a hug. She got really excited saying several things at the same time, I sat with her on the floor and she played with my hair. That's when she realized that Dr. Reid was in the room and her face was etched with fear. “Mila, ele não vai te fazer mal, ele é muito legal! Sabe, o nome dele é Spencer e ele é meu principe. Ele é meu cavaleiro que me protege de coisas ruins e ele protege princesas como você também. Então ele não vai te fazer mal. Okay?” ²

She waved at me and I gave her a smile. I called Spencer over and he sat on the other side of the table. I translated for him what I said to her and it was like that for 40 minutes. Mila was no longer afraid of him, she gave as much information as possible about the man who took her and she also talked about her family. When she was scared, she squeezed my hand really tight and I told her that everything was going to be alright. Now, she going to draw two drawings for us. “Y/N, I will pass the information for Agent Garcia so she can start the search. You helped a lot. Thank you. Can you stay with her?" I nodded to him. “Mila, diz “Bye, Spencer”, ele precisa ir agora” ³.

“NÃO! Ele tem que dar um presente para você. Ele é seu principe, não é? Vocês tem que casar e viver felizes para sempre” ⁴ At that moment my heart beat faster. Holy shit, how was I going to translate this to him?! I can feel the presure. If I was avoiding embarrassing myself, now is the time. She was looking for something in the toy box, she walked to Spencer and gave him a plastic ring. She just pointed at the ring and then at me. We looked at each other not knowing what to do. I was in PANIC. “Spencer, I think she wants us to get married. You don’t have to. Sorry, I can explain to her that...”.  

“Oh, don't worry, I can give you the ring. Give me your left hand" I held out my hand to him and when he touched me I feel a good feeling. His hand are so soft. Looking right into Mila's face who seemed very happy with our misfortune. "Right, we are married. I’m married to a queen. I have to go now but can we talk after this, my lady?" he said after kissing the ring on my hand. Damn, he obviously has a hold on me."Yes, we can, Prince Agent Reid". Then I give him a smirk and he left the room. I show Mila my hand, she was happy for the first time in days and I was thinking how lucky I would be if this fairytale were true.

1 Hi Mila, someone told me there was a princess around here.

2 Mila, he won't hurt you, he's really nice! You know, his name is Spencer and he's my prince. He is my knight who protects me from bad things and he protects princesses like you too. So he won't hurt you. OK?.

3 Mila, say “Bye Spencer”, he needs to go.

4 NO! He has to give you a gift. He's your prince, isn't he? You have to get married and live happily ever after.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: POLYGLOT STEVE??? WHO SPEAKS FLUENT FRENCH, ITALIAN, KOREAN, POLISH, SPANISH, ENGLISH AND PORTUGUESE??? EDDIE CONSTANTLY BEING FLUSTERED AS HELL HE FINDS IT REALLY HOT THAT STEVE SORAKS SO MANY LANGUAGES AND HE WILL CASUALLY USE THEM IN CONVERSATION????? WITHOUT MEANING TOO???? LIKE HE'LL FORGET A WORD IN ENGLISH & SAY IT ANOTHER LANGUAGE WITHOUT REALIZING????

MY LOVE! OKAY SO LET ME PREFACE BY SAYING I AM A LAZY PIECE OF SHIT WHO DID NOT WANT TO EVEN ATTEMPT GOOGLE TRANSLATE BECAUSE IT IS OFTEN WRONG ANYWAY OKAY. Also, English is my first and only language (damn Americans amirite) and while I did take a year of Spanish and two years of French in high school, my auditory processing is so shit, I can pretty much barely get through an introductory conversation in those languages. But I tried to still make this cute and fun! - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------------

“Gówno!” Steve exclaimed from the kitchen.

“Everything okay?” Robin yelled from the couch.

Eddie looked at her with wide eyes.

“The fuck did he say?” he asked quietly, not wanting Steve to hear him.

“Shit.”

“No, what did he say?” Eddie asked again.

Robin stared at him, annoyed.

“He said, ‘shit’ in Polish.”

“Steve knows Polish?!”

Robin rolled her eyes and got up to physically check on Steve.

Eddie sat and stewed in this new knowledge.

But this was only the first of many surprises.

—-------------------

“Mama, no.” Steve’s voice came from his bedroom as Eddie made his way up the stairs.

His mom was here?

And then Eddie heard Steve speaking in…Spanish? It was too fast to tell for sure, but it definitely wasn’t English.

He peeked his head through the door, relaxing slightly when he saw Steve was on the phone.

Steve gestured for him to come in while he spoke, so Eddie slipped his shoes off and sat down on the bed, getting comfortable.

But then it sounded like Steve started talking in another different language.

It was close to Spanish, but some of it sounded almost French?

Eddie blinked at him, his free hand gesturing wildly as his voice got louder.

Eventually, he sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. Eddie rubbed his back in a totally friendly, not loving, manner.

“Okay. See you then,” he sounded resigned, tired.

Eddie hated it.

When the phone was back on the hook, Steve sank back against Eddie and sighed again.

“My parents will be here next week for a couple days. They’re organizing the sale of the house, so they are packing what they want to move into a storage unit and having a cleaning company come get the rest to be donated. I have until the end of the month to be gone.”

Eddie looked down at Steve’s hand, how it was playing with the edge of Eddie’s shirt, how tense the rest of his body was even as Eddie played with his hair.

“You speak Spanish?”

That wasn’t really what he meant to say, but the shock hadn’t quite worn off from hearing him speaking in another language. Or two.

“I speak Spanish and Portuguese,” he replied.

“Oh. Well…why?”

Steve sat up and looked down at Eddie with a smirk.

“Because my mom’s family is mostly from Spain and Portugal and if I wanted to talk to my grandparents, that was my only option.”

“Oh. I…had no idea.”

Steve rested his head against his chest again, finally seeming to relax a bit.

“I really only speak it with her now. I took Spanish in high school for the easy A.”

“Makes sense.”

They remained quiet for a few minutes, Steve coming down from the stress of his phone call and impending parental visit.

“So you wanna live with me?” Eddie finally asked, casually.

They weren’t…well. They just weren’t. And that was okay. Eddie told himself that if all he was for Steve was a great friend who could hold him when he needed it, then that was enough.

But they also kind of…were.

It was very confusing and he was constantly balancing between pushing too far and not pushing enough.

“What? Like, in your trailer with you and Wayne?”

Eddie shrugged.

“Wayne wouldn’t mind. Long as you help clean up sometimes and maybe chip in for groceries.”

Wayne also was team Eddie-tell-Steve-you’re-in-love-with-him-before-I-do and would absolutely support this type of thing.

“But you guys only have two bedrooms.”

“You can share with me or like, we can work something out where we section off a part of the living room? I dunno. It’s not perfect, but I know you don’t have quite enough saved up for your own place yet.”

Steve hid his face in Eddie’s shirt for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll share with you for a bit. But probably only for a few months, I swear. I have almost enough to get that house by Robin,” he said.

It was a house for sale in Robin’s neighborhood, and it wasn’t selling because it needed quite a bit of work done to the yard and bathrooms. But Steve knew he could do it, he just needed to make sure he had money for everything first.

He wouldn’t let anyone chip in, either.

“No rush. But, yeah, I’ll talk to Wayne about it tomorrow.”

—-------------------------------------

Steve moved in the next week after a long argument with his parents, who didn’t seem too thrilled about him becoming “trailer trash.”

Eddie thought about the last words Steve said to his parents before leaving: “I’d rather be trailer trash than your son.”

About how he’d spit them at them, poison from his lips.

About how he’d said it in French.

He probably didn’t think Eddie understood, probably didn’t realize that most of the reason Eddie had been so quiet on the ride to the trailer was because he was turning over Steve’s words in his head.

He still hadn’t quite come to a conclusion more than eight hours later, but he was busy helping Steve unpack the last of his things anyway.

“You seem quiet,” Steve said from where he was putting some of his tapes by Eddie’s boombox.

“Hm?” Eddie looked over at him, smiling to himself when he saw Steve putting Eddie’s tapes on top of his. “Oh. Just thinkin’.”

“Thinking about…?” Steve looked over at him.

“Just what you said earlier.”

Stev’s brows furrowed as he thought about what Eddie meant.

“You mean before we left?” Eddie nodded. “I said it in French though? You understood?”

“I’m not fluent, but I took it for three years in high school. One of the only classes I passed with flying colors.”

“Really?” Steve asked in French. “So I could say something in French right now and you would know what I’m saying?” he continued, still in French.

Eddie understood enough to nod.

“So if I told you that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and that I wish I could hold your hand right now, you’d say…”

Steve’s blush gave away some of what he was saying, though Eddie had to admit to himself, he hadn’t quite understood some of it.

Steve sounded so natural, was speaking so quickly, Eddie wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Um. I guess I’m not so good at it when someone as natural as you speaks it,” Eddie awkwardly said, turning back to the closet where he was moving some of his things so Steve would have room for his clothes that couldn’t be folded.

He felt Steve’s body heat behind him, knew he would be right there if he turned back around.

Steve said something in Italian (how many languages did he know?) and then something else in a language Eddie didn’t recognize.

He finally turned to see Steve blushing, looking down at the floor of his room.

“What was that one?” he asked, moving in a bit closer, barely leaving any space between them.

“Korean. My dad insisted on all of us learning it when he acquired a business in Korea.”

“So you know…how many languages?”

“Seven counting English, but I’m also learning Russian from Robin. Kind of a way to ‘own the trauma’ or whatever she tells me,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You know seven languages?” Eddie squeaked.

“Oui,” Steve smirked up at him.

They were so close. He could almost feel Steve’s breath against his lips, closed his eyes and imagined how he would taste.

“Eds,” Steve breathed out.

“Hm?” Eddie felt high, or like there was a severe lack of oxygen in the room, maybe both.

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

Eddie’s eyes popped open, his jaw dropping in shock.

Steve asked again, this time in French.

Eddie groaned and threw his head back.

“You’re killing me.”

“...so that’s a yes?” Steve teased.

“Oui,” Eddie replied.

Steve’s lips were warm against his, surprisingly soft, though demanding.

His whole body was demanding, pushing Eddie backwards until his back hit the wall with a thump. Eddie had never been so glad that Wayne was at work.

His hands found Steve’s waist, squeezed until he was sure he left bruises, only tightening his grip more when Steve moaned against his mouth.

Steve’s body was flush against his now, their shirts rucking up just enough for the skin of their stomachs to rub together, sweat slicking between them.

Eddie couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t really want to, didn’t want to part from the closeness he’d been hoping for for so long.

Steve did pull away though, even if only enough to rest his forehead against Eddie’s.

He whispered something in Spanish, then opened his eyes.

Eddie was hot.

“It’s really fuckin’ hot when you do that,” he admitted.

“Do what?”

“Speak any of the 100 languages that you know.”

“Oh?” Steve kissed the corner of his mouth, then his chin, then his jaw.

He kept whispering things in different languages, right against Eddie’s skin, until he was practically ready to fall to his knees.

“Steeeeeeve. You’re killing me,” Eddie complained.

“I can stop,” Steve said against the curve of his neck and shoulder.

“No, please don’t,” he groaned out.

So, he didn’t.

Steve spent the next hour kissing, and teasing, and whispering things Eddie didn’t understand against his skin.

He didn’t stop until Wayne knocked on the bedroom door to let them know he was home and was cooking burgers on the grill.

Eddie smiled as Steve left the room to help Wayne with dinner as he’d been looking forward to doing.

He thought about how long they weren’t anything but friends who could have been more.

But now they were. Hopefully they always would be.

[enriquemzn262]

Average school start time for Spanish and Portuguese-speaking countries in Latin America.

In my school we had to be at the gate by 6 am, and you could enter at 6:10 if your parents were with you, otherwise you were turned back for tardiness.

At the start of the year and up until late March/early April, the sun wouldn’t come out until after 6 am, so that meant I had to walk to school basically at night, which was actually really cool for me, and got even cooler when I got a bike and rode to school like that, no helmet, reflective vest nor lights because I was 14 and stupid ehue.

Man, to think I always assumed that’s how it was for everyone else outside Colombia.

[atthebell]

Roier: Hey, you told me when I arrived in Brazil, 'After your 10-hour trip, I'll give you an ass massage,' and I didn't see any ass massage.

Cellbit: [silent for a long moment before Roier punches him in-game] This type of thing you don't talk about live

[Roier bursts into laughter]

Cellbit: What is this? Hey! I didn't do that, I didn't do that, but, I did sing you "Welcome to the Mato" in the airport.

Full transcript (in Spanish/Portunhol & English) under the cut:

Spanish/Portuguese/Portunhol transcript:

Cellbit: Sí, sí

Roier: Por que mierda no funciona? Hola?

Cellbit: No sé, está bugeado?

Roier: Ya no soy parte de QSMP porque no voy a Las Vegas

Cellbit: Hey, tienes que tentar, hey-- Viene en mi maletín!

Roier: En tu maletín? Ay, me hago chiquito, me hago chiquito.

Cellbit: Tu puedo, tu puedo-- Você-- Te bota na mochila.

Roier: No mames. Mira, es que tiene ser una mochila muy grande.

Cellbit: A botar suas nalgas, si?

Roier: Oh, Cellbit, vas a volar como 13 horas

Cellbit: Tô acostumado

Roier: Ahh, acostumbrado, ay perdón

Cellbit: No tô acostumado, no tô acostumado, mas eu tô acostumado com aviões, mas, eu já viajei, eu só viajei internacionalmente umas quatro vezes hoje.

Roier: Ah, perro. Ya no mas he viajado dos veces así, y termino con el culo roto.

Cellbit: Ah, sim. Mas faz muito tempo que estive em um avião.

Roier: Oye, tu me dijiste cuando llegues a Brasil, 'Después de tu viaje de 10 horas, te hago masaje en el culo,' y yo no vi ningún masaje en mi culo.

Cellbit: [largo silencio] Esse tipo de coisa não se fala em live

[Roier se ríe]

Cellbit: Que isso? [Cellbit se ríe] Hey! No diciste, no diciste, pero, yo te canté "Welcome to the Mato" en el aeropuerto.

Roier: Sí. Pero fue-- sí, sí, está bien.

Cellbit: O qué querías? Querías un show? Canté "Welcome to the Mato" [letras confusas] y te de un abrazo.

Roier: Yo le dije a todos, Cellbit sí me canto, pero, la realidad fue, que me digo, [letras confusas y rápidas para mostrar lo rápido y silencioso que la cantaba Cellbit], asi.

Cellbit: [se ríe] Sí, porque, qué querías? Querías un show? Querías um show ao vivo? Cumplí la promesa. Não estava en karaoke, estava en el aeropuerto, tenía otras personas conmigo. [diafonía] Não farei um performance

Roier: Eramos como tres personas ahí, no mas. Culero.

Cellbit: Nah nah nah nah nah nah. La performance es como en el karaoke.

Roier: Ah, bueno. En el karaoke, sí.

Cellbit: No fue así un show.

English transcript:

Cellbit: Yes, yes.

Roier: Why the fuck isn't it working? Hello?

Cellbit: I don't know, is it bugged?

Roier: I'm not part of the QSMP because I'm not going to Las Vegas

Cellbit: Hey, you have to try, hey-- Come in my bag!

Roier: In your bag? Ah I'm getting smaller, I'm getting smaller.

Cellbit: You can, you can-- You can put it in your backpack.

Roier: No way. Look, it would have to be a really big backpack.

Cellbit: To fit your ass, right?

Roier: Oh, Cellbit, you'll have to fly for like 13 hours

Cellbit: I'm used to it

Roier: Ohhh, used to it, well pardon me

Cellbit: I'm not used to it, I'm not used to it, but I'm used to planes, but, I've traveled, I've only traveled internationally about four times before now.

Roier: Ah, very cool. I've only traveled twice before [internationally], and I ended up with a broken ass.

Cellbit: Ah, yeah. But it's been a long time since I've been on a plane.

Roier: Hey, you told me when I arrived in Brazil, 'After your 10-hour trip, I'll give you an ass massage,' and I didn't see any ass massage.

Cellbit: [silent for a long moment before Roier punches him in-game] This type of thing you don't talk about live

[Roier bursts into laughter]

Cellbit: What is this? Hey! I didn't do that, I didn't do that [going to assume this is what he meant to say], but, I did sing you "Welcome to the Mato" in the airport.

Roier: Yes, yes. But it was-- yes, yes, it's fine.

Cellbit: What did you want? You wanted a show? I sang "Welcome to the Mato" [garbled lyrics] and gave you a hug.

Roier: I told everyone this, Cellbit did sing to me, but, the reality is that he said [garbled quick lyrics to show how fast and quiet Cellbit was singing it], like this.

Cellbit: [laughs] Yes, because what did you want? Did you want a show? You wanted a live show? I kept my promise. I wasn't at karaoke, I was in the airport, there were other people there with me. [crosstalk] I wasn't going to do a performance.

Roier: There were like three people there with us, no more. Asshole.

Cellbit: Nah nah nah nah nah nah. The performance was for the karaoke.

Roier: Ah, good. At the karaoke, yes.

Cellbit: It wasn't going to be like a show.

[pensat-i-fet]

The (only) one I love (Martin Ødegaard x Reader, ft Rúben Dias)

**After posting this Rúben imagine, I got a request to do something similar but with Ødegaard. And this is what I came up with. There is a little Rúben cameo and...he might not be that great in this story but oh well 😅 enjoy!! ❤️**

Word count: 2887

Masterlist

Wattpad

Jealousy was a very bad companion. It was an irrational feeling that made people say and do very stupid things. No one wanted to feel jealous. And yet…

“You’re going to Manchester?”

“Yes. Just for the weekend”, you said, not noticing the way Martin looked at you. “It’d be fun to see everyone”.

“Sure”.

“You ok? Worried you’ll miss me too much?”, you teased.

“Yeah, that’s it”.

Even if Martin’s smile didn’t convince you fully that it was only that, you let it slide. It was true that you hadn’t spent that much time together lately but you really needed some time away to catch up with your friends and that work trip was a great option to do just that.

Your year studying abroad in Lisbon turned into a job at Benfica, which then led you to your job at City. There, your good relationship with Mikel Arteta made you take his offer of working with him at Arsenal. You were extremely happy in London but you missed Manchester. And especially, the Portuguese boys. You had already worked with Rúben when he still played for Benfica. And once at City, you became friends with Bernardo almost as easily.

The season had been a strange one for you. Arsenal were doing so well but City was always behind, ready to take any opportunity to go back to the top of the table. It was sort of ideal in a way. If Arsenal won, your team won. But if they didn’t, your former team would win. Your friends would win.

Someone who didn’t see it that way was Martin. Even if you had an unspoken rule of not dating players, once you met Martin, that rule banished. You were charmed by his personality the second you talked to him and you already thought he was really cute before meeting him in person, so…

“Let’s go to the match!”

Once you got to the stadium, it was time to separate from Martin. He had been pretty quiet on the ride to the stadium but you didn’t worry much about it. It wasn’t that unusual for him to be like that.

“Good luck, my love”, you said, kissing him and hugging him tightly. You knew how nervous he got before matches and how much your good wishes meant to him.

Despite all the silly thoughts in his mind, your hug made him relax. You were there with him. And he trusted you. There was no reason to be jealous. And yet…

**

Another bad result for Arsenal, while City kept winning all of their matches, meant Martin was pretty upset after the match. He loved being a captain, even if he was still so young. But bad results were harder to digest because of that extra responsibility.

He was waiting for you to be done with work, sitting inside the car, lost in thoughts of what could have been done better.

"Hey!"

Hearing your voice made him turn his body completely to hug you. You barely had time to sit down but didn't mind. Martin needed you.

"Please don't go to Manchester", he muttered against your neck.

"Why?"

He looked up realising he had said that out loud. He couldn't tell you about his jealousy. You wouldn't understand. And it wouldn't be fair to you, because you had done nothing wrong.

"I just…I need you here with me".

"I can come back a day earlier but I need to go. There's work stuff that I need to do there".

"Of course. I'm just being stupid and needy. Stay there as long as you want to".

He shook his head and got ready to drive but you took his hand to stop him.

"Is there anything else you want to say?"

"No", he smiled. "Let's go home".

                                     **

"This is ridiculous", whispered Martin, putting his phone down and his hands on his face.

"What's wrong, bro?", asked Bukayo when he saw his captain's actions.

"I'm stupid. That's what's wrong".

"You're not. Did you see something on your phone that upset you? Is your family ok?"

"Yeah, they are good, don't worry. It's just…", he didn't know how to say it without sounding silly so he took the phone and showed Bukayo.

"I don't get…oh. Don't be jealous, mate. She'd never do that".

"I know", he sighed. "That's why I feel stupid. But look at the comments".

Bukayo did and understood his teammate a bit better. So many people talking about what a great couple you and Rúben Dias made. On a previous post with photos of you two, even one of Rúben's friends commented about it…and Rúben liked the post. Martin couldn't stand it anymore. But he couldn't ask you to stop being friends with him. It wasn't fair.

By the time you got back from Manchester, Martin had convinced himself that not looking at any of your posts was the best idea. He was the type of boyfriend who always liked your posts and left some sort of comment. Even if it was just a heart emoji. So people noticed the change but he didn't care.

"Honey, I'm home!"

You didn't even have time to fully close the door before Martin got there and lifted you to hug you.

"Missed me?"

"Barely", he joked before kissing you. "I thought we could go out for dinner. But if you're tired, I can cook or order something".

"Let's order. I'm shattered. I just want to shower, put on my pajamas and cuddle with my favourite boy".

"That's a good plan", he said, smiling and pecking your lips again.

Martin's smile didn't leave his face while he walked with you to your room. But then you took your hoodie off and he saw it wasn't one he had seen before.

"Did you go shopping while in Manchester?"

"No. Why? Did you expect a souvenir?"

He laughed at your joke, still looking at the hoodie. "Where did this come from then?"

"Rúben", you said, casually. "I was clumsy enough to get sauce on my jacket so he gave me his hoodie to wear".

"That's nice of him".

You smiled at your boyfriend before getting inside the shower, not seeing his face. Not guessing all the thoughts that were going through his mind at that moment.

                                     **

The weeks passed and it was time for Martin's most dreaded match. City at the Etihad.

"Hello traitor", he heard someone say when he was on his way to the dressing room. And he knew that voice.

When he turned to look at Rúben, he saw you hugging him and laughing. He would have stared for hours but a slap on his back woke him up from his daydreaming of how he could murder a Portuguese defender.

"Hey, good to see you", said Erling.

"Yeah, same".

But Martin kept looking in your direction and Erling noticed.

"Who's that?"

"My girlfriend".

"Right…I heard about her. She used to work here".

Martin nodded, hearing your laugh he loved so much but that he couldn't enjoy now because of who was the reason you were laughing.

"I better go. Good luck".

"Good luck to you too".

Martin started to walk faster and you noticed him leaving without getting his good luck hug.

"I need to go. See you later", you told Rúben before sprinting after your boyfriend.

The door to the dressing room closed behind him and you knew you couldn't get inside. The players knew you and probably wouldn't mind but you wanted to respect their privacy. So when you saw another player walking towards the door, you knew it was your best chance.

"Aaron, can you tell Martin to come out for a second?"

"It's time for the coach's talk but then we'll go out again to warm up".

"Yes, but I need to go to work myself and I have to tell him something important…".

"Ok".

Checking your phone you noticed you couldn't wait there longer than 5 minutes. But luckily, the door opened again and it was Martin who got out.

"Hey, I didn't get to wish you good luck".

"No, you were too busy".

"What does that even mean?"

"I have to go back inside. The captain can't miss the team talk".

"Are you mad at me?"

No, he was mad at himself.

"Martin…".

"We'll talk later".

None of you could concentrate well on your jobs after that. And every city goal only made the situation worse.

After the match, a lot of City players surrounded their former teammate Zinchenko. But you were surrounded only by two City players, Rúben and Bernardo.

"Who's going to win the league, then?", laughed Bernardo. You had been joking about it all season.

"I don't care", you said and they were surprised by the way you reacted.

"Don't be a sore loser", said Rúben, putting his arm around your shoulders. And when you looked up, you saw Martin looking at you two. And finally, finally, you understood why he behaved the way he did sometimes. Why he had behaved the way he did before the match.

Focusing on work was the best option for you and that's what you did. By the time you got to the plane, you hadn't talked to Martin and you planned on doing that when you got home. The last thing you needed was to make a scene in front of your bosses.

"Are you going to talk to me or just acting like a child is enough for you today?"

"You don't get it".

"I do, Martin. I do now. You're jealous of Rúben, which is the stupidest thing…".

"Is it stupid? Ask him if it’s stupid! I trust you but I don't trust him at all".

"So I can't be friends with men then?", he was being so ridiculous…you couldn't believe it. He wasn't like that normally.

"You're friends with my Arsenal teammates and it's fine. You're friends with Silva too and it's fine. But Dias…he likes you. Don't deny it".

"If you trusted me as much as you say you do, that wouldn't matter".

Martin noticed you didn't deny his claim. And he really hoped you would.

"I do, but it's hard. Put yourself in my shoes for a second".

Seeing his defeated look took some of your anger away. So you took his hand and walked with him to the sofa so you could sit and talk.

"Why is it hard? Explain it to me".

And so he started to name all the things that had made him jealous in the past, worried you'd laugh at him.

"And then they have to play against Madrid and you want them to win too, writing about it on social media".

"So? Why can't I support City in the Champions League? I won't next year when you play it".

"I played for Madrid. People talked about how my girlfriend was talking about wanting them to lose".

"They treated you like shit. People can't expect me to like them…".

"I guess", he sighed.

"What else?"

"Do you read the comments on your posts?"

That surprised you. Did he? You never did because being a woman in a male centric industry meant you got a lot of abuse on social media. So the best thing you could do was ignore all comments.

"No, why?"

"So you don't see how people ship you and Rúben every time you post about the other or when you interact in the comments"

"That's so stupid. I post a lot with Bernardo too. Why don't they ship me with him then?"

"He's in a relationship".

"So am I".

"Yeah…they don't care about that, apparently".

"Do you get comments about it?"

He nodded, picking up his phone and going to the last photo of you he posted. You read the comments and couldn't believe it. All the cheating accusations under your comment were bad enough. But all those comments about you and Rúben being a better couple…

"You should have told me earlier".

"And look like the idiot I am? I told you, I trust you. But it can be too much. He's taking my league title but he can't take you too".

"He won't".

You understood. And most importantly, you believed him when he said he trusted you.

After your talk, you two cuddled on the sofa. He needed you to be there for him and you needed to reassure him.

Between the match, the travelling and your argument, he was exhausted and fell asleep quickly. You moved him gently so his head could be on your lap and took your phone out and took a photo of him. He looked adorable.

Because of the argument, you hadn't had time to go through Instagram after the match. And you didn't know why, but you felt the need to go to your tagged photos.

One of the first you saw was of you and Rúben hugging. A City fan page had posted it and Rúben liked it. You were about to move to the next when the caption caught your attention.

"Please City, bring her back to the team so these two can be together. Dream couple! 😍"

Rúben like that? You definitely needed to talk to him but you couldn't tell Martin. He didn't need to see more comments like that. He was right when he said it was too much. You could only imagine how painful it would be to see those types of posts about him and another woman.

Looking down at him, you felt the need to do something. And so you opened the Instagram app again and posted the photo you took of Martin sleeping with his head on your lap on your stories.

"The (only) one I love 💕"

[nekkomaa]

Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Note: Another chapter! Very late actually, I meant to post it much earlier, but well, school didn't give me any time off. And I'm moving this week! So maybe I'll be a bit more inspired.

Excerpts from the story will be coming out earlier and earlier on my Ko-fi, check it out!

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word count: 1924

The room has been turned over and all you can do is watch, not that you can do much, knocking out the man in front of you in order to escape was not smart, and you doubt you could hit him with your hands tied. At the sound of the slightest movement you make a change is noticeable in the man, although he doesn't stop searching and collecting whatever he wants around the room, you can see his shoulders tense slightly and then relax when he realizes that you're still planted next to the door in the same place where he left you.

Watching him made you learn something, if you really wanted to escape from him alive, you'd have to be very clever, obviously you couldn't beat him in physical strength, and apparently a vase wouldn't bring him down easily. Men like this aren't easily fooled, offering yourself to him wouldn't do any good either, and you particularly prefer not to take that approach.

He moves towards you, the words he said earlier echoing in your mind, a shiver running through your body as your eyes meet. He leaves no victims, either he will kill me here, or he plans to try and get more information out of me with some kind of torture.

You see the letter in his hand, the one you read, and a few others, the contents of which remain hidden from you.

"How about being a good girl for me now?" He seems to smile under his mask, his eyes narrow, the tone of his voice seems deeper and more muffled. There's no time to think about what he means by that because before you can say anything he's taking a black bandanna out of one of his vest pockets and fastening it around your eyes, he makes sure it's covering your eyes well, and then he sticks a strip of tape over your mouth.

Now you're sure, he's going to take you with him, to kill you, to get information out of you that you've already told him you don't have, or worse, to take you to who knows what kind of organization he's part of, and take advantage of your body.

His hands make contact with your hips and soon you're bent over what you think is his shoulder, a low sigh is all you can give, it's hard to breathe upside down but you can't complain.

He says something as he comes down the stairs, but you don't quite understand, the dizziness of being upside down drowns out what he says, the feeling that there might be someone else with him leaves you with a worse sense of fear than before.

You never considered yourself to be good at masking emotions or even the expression on your face, but after David revealed himself you had to get good at that theater, or else you're sure you'll end up dead and buried in the backyard of that house, and your parents will never know where you are. The thought gets darker and darker, pulling you towards the thought that maybe dying now would be better than whatever awaits you.

Your attention is drawn to the footsteps he takes. The sound of a car door opening sparks an instinct to flee, you're not sure what part of the world you're in now, but you know a bit about the surroundings, and you know that if you get into that car you certainly won't know where you'll end up.

You try to move your legs so that they hit him and maybe he'll let you go, but the movement is useless, the only thing the man does is sigh before throwing you into the car.

"I thought you'd already accepted it. You know you won't be able to escape, trying will only get you into more trouble, little thing." The door is slammed shut and muffled gravel noises are all that can be heard. Still undeterred by his words, you try again to find an escape route. With your hands tied in front of you, it's easy to pull the blindfold down, giving you a bit of a view, although all you can see is the dashboard and the front seats in a very precarious way, since removing the strip completely would attract more attention.

Obviously with your hands tied there's not much you can do, there's no way to open the car doors quickly and shouting for help was never an option, the guards appear to be dead or tied up, and well, the house is miles away from any civilization. If you had the chance to run now it wouldn't solve much either, I mean, look at the size of your legs and look at the size of his legs, before you even reached the edge of the forest he would have already caught you, or maybe lost patience and shot you dead.

The car door opens and all you do is cringe, the car shakes a little and the door closes, a second door opens and the process repeats. You can only see the arm of one of them and a bit of the side of their face, perhaps it's the person your kidnapper was talking to earlier. You feel stupid, if you hadn't been so desperate you would have been able to hear what they were saying, it was just a few words but sometimes it could prove very helpful later.

Hardly a word has been exchanged since they got into the car, just what you think is a conversation through glances, through the windows all you can see is the sky and the treetops passing by in a blur.

The second man has surely noticed that his blindfold is out of place, but he hasn't moved to fix it. Instead, he just busies himself with watching you from time to time, just to make sure you don't change position, or try something silly.

The thought of hanging one of them crossed your mind again and again, they tied your hands in front of you, you fantasized how easy it would be to sit on the bench and slip your arm through the seat back and hang one of them. The thought ended when you assessed the win rates.

You'd probably end up with a bullet between your eyebrows before you even managed to choke either of them.

At some point during the unknown journey you ended up in a soft nap, which was enough for the two men sitting in front of you to start talking.

"Do you think she'll be useful?" The man in the car asked.

"I don't know." He replied, his eyes glued to the road. His reputation for driving vehicles wasn't very good, but this time he was doing a good job.

"Has the customer contacted you?"

"Not yet, you know how it is."

"I thought this one was different, you said earlier about a better opportunity." The car slowed down and turned onto the tarmac. A sigh of relief came from the passenger.

"Who knows, maybe it is."

The car door is opened and a cool wind invades the interior of the car, a chill runs through your body and makes you shiver slightly. The man watches you from the door, you don't see him, but you know he's there, and you know he's already seen the state of the blindfold, the twisted fabric giving you some insight, if he's annoyed or upset by this he doesn't show it.

He grabs your body and pulls you out, again on his shoulders, you don't feel bad this time as you're placed upside down, you keep your eyes open and try to lean over to look around, it's not possible to see much, in fact it's impossible to see anything that might be important, just like your house this place is surrounded by trees, in fact it's even worse, there are bushes everywhere, and before you can judge further you're inside a wooden house.

The floor creaks with the weight, you didn't notice but the second man is already in the house, your kidnapper puts you in a chair and ties you to it, when he walks away you take a moment to look around.

The house was small, with no decoration apart from a vase of wilted flowers on the table. The fireplace had no wood and was full of cobwebs, the floor of the house was also thick with dirt, although the wood made a lot of noise the floor was still intact, with no broken wood or wood that looked rotten.

The man sitting on the shabby dark green sofa in the corner of the room had a freshly cut mohawk, an unshaven beard and a tired expression on his face, his gaze was somewhat emotionless, he assessed you the same way you assessed him, from head to toe.

When your gaze returned to the man with a skull covering his face, you frowned, irritated by the fact that you couldn't say anything, let alone move your aching body; it was late afternoon, judging by the light outside, the orange hue bathing the undergrowth. He didn't seem to mind your grimace though, he just removed the tape from your mouth and stared at you, probably expecting you to shout or say something, when you didn't he just nodded and walked away.

"I thought she'd have some resistance, she knows how to shout and everything." The Mohawk commented, looking more animated now, he didn't look at you instead spoke directly to the other man in the room.

"I think she's understood that no one will come even if she shouts." He commented and disappeared through the door to the left.

"It's just the two of us for a while, miss, how about a chat?" The Mohawk smiles and suddenly turns to you.

"Fuck off." His voice came out hoarse from disuse, his throat slightly scratchy from lack of water. He didn't seem offended, he just laughed.

His smile irritates you, it seems so natural to the whole situation, in fact you shouldn't even be surprised by it. He's probably going to interrogate you, just like the other one did, trying to get information out of you that you don't have, a wave of irritation passes through you, and then that familiar feeling of fear comes over you.

It starts with your stomach, twisting and turning, and then with the shivers that run through your bones, your blood seems to pump faster and everything is suddenly a bit fuzzy, not enough to make you lose consciousness, but enough to bother you and slow down your thinking.

Your fixation seems to drop with every passing second, you had been kidnapped. And you were stuck in this chair, in a little house in the middle of nowhere, with two men, without even knowing where you were. Not that your life with David was wonderful, you didn't like that life, you kept dreaming of going back, opening your own eyes and showing your younger self that that man was a snake, but it was too late and as far as you know they haven't invented a time machine yet, so going back wasn't possible, and moaning about what could have been didn't make sense either.

The mohawk starts talking to you again, but the anxious thoughts talk, and talk, and make you dizzy, until your hands are shaking and your feet are tapping on the wooden floor. And then everything goes dark.

[hey-i-am-trying]

So, as someone who was watching the stream and watches many of Roiers specifically, but is not Hispanic, first it was clear from when the admin logged on it was someone different than who had been (07) for almost a week. After a bit of the admin playing as a more solitary egg and more standoffish, they told roier to "leave them alone", then roier tried talking with them and explaining how things had been during the week (him trying to explain stuff lore and week events Roier & pepito had)

the admin then said, "You smell like ass too, you son of a bitch. No one asked you"

After Roier let the admin leave to do whatever, after spending at max 30 minutes together, he was clearly uncomfortable being called things, especially by someone he had had no interactions with. He did his own things for a little bit longer.

But afterwards, Aldo, who was watching, spoke about how it wasnt okay specifically. Many tripoiers were thinking Roier would scold chat the next stream, for speaking out against how this admin was acting, but he didnt just. And then later said that they day just wasnt canon anymore. So many believe, he personally reached out to the admin team or Q about it.

From what has been explained to me, by Hispanic friends and other fans, the main issue is that this was obviously said in an insulting manner to Roier, but even if they were trying to "rp" or jokingly say it this admin had 0 relationship with Roier prior to this. Saying these things out of nowhere is never okay and was not okay.

And saying the reason they acted this way was because they were sick and Roier spoke too fast, which aggravated the situation?

And their "apology"? " i never realized that it wasnt in rp that you were uncomfortable "? But they had been online seeing the things said about the situation?

Thank your for explaining! I was no aware it was this bad! It is not anyone else 's place to forgive the admin but Roier, so really I can't say much.

It was definetly rude, and while I will again say we can't make a judgement of a complete person for a moment, in my opinion Roier deserves a better apology.

I can't go inside the admin's mind and say for sure if they meant what they say in rp or not, because I had in the past stumble on social norms like a train rack and I get it not realizing how rude you are sounding in the moment. But again, I would apologize after I realize how I acted.

And about not seeing the posts online, I can't say for sure. I will give an example of a situation I actually saw unfold and why assume that someone saw posts, not metter how "viral" it was or how many they were, is honestly a bad idea.

When Empanada was first introduced, there was a sever moment of hesitation in the brazilian qsmp community, Bagi was one of the most active brazilian players and people liked to go to her stream to just have a portuguse speaking player to listen, but since Bagi has become Em's mom, she barely would speak portuguse and would mostly talk in english with her.

Some brazilians fans expressed very politely why they were feeling bad with this situation, explaining how it made them feel like they were "losing" a portuguese speaker, and in a smp where the principle was having the ccs being able to speak their native languages, it felt like their language was being side line again.

At the same time, they were people not so politely saying what a dumb decision was to give a german egg to a brazilian cc, that they should kill Empanada or fire her admin and hire a brazilian admin for the role.

Bagi's and Em's admin saw the rude posts and not the polite ones. So when they decided to talk about in stream, Bagi was obviously furious about it and was very harsh.

That generated a lot of hate to them and especially to Em because believe that was their answear to the polite posts.

Bagi later read the more polite thread and talked about it in a calmer manner, her and Empanada try to use more of the translator to speak in their respective languages.

I know this feels like a unrealed rant at the end, but I wanted to just give an actually example of how making assumption of what people saw or did not saw is kinda useless and even harmful because we can not actually be sure about it, yes they metion the twitter posts on their letter, but who knows what tweets they actually saw.

Coming back to the situation. They said they are an autistic person, which while not an excuse to be an asshole to someone, can explain losing the grasp social norms, and being unware of what was crossing rp lines, that happens. Not an excuse but an explanation, they are an adult and after understanding they were rude they should have apologize properly.

Life is a bit more complicated than black and white, being an asshole once to somebody doesn't mark them as an asshole for the rest of their lives, I hope the admin can get something out of this situation and learn, hopefully they will reach out to Roier to say sorry.

[hussyknee]

hi, i hope i am not crossing a line, please ignore if this is bad question. i am just curious

in one of your posts u said your caste is karava. this is the first time i am hearing a sinhalese talk about caste (i speak tamil and never really felt confident in my sinhala to make sinhalese friends)

can you explain about the castes or tell me where find information about it

Caste is a fucked up concept across the board, obviously, but Sinhalese castes are different from Tamil Hindu in that they involve the cultural and socio-political organisation of the Sinhalese community, and has no connection to religious scripture.

There are thirteen castes that still exist today. We used to be a chiefly agrarian society, so the majority of Sinhalese are Govigama ("Govi" means farming) and they're the kind of "bourgeoisie" of the social order in that few are above them and anyone else is below them. Those that rank below them are castes like Bathgama and Kinnara (who are meant to be agricultural labourers) Vahampura (something to do with making cinnamon or treacle) Navadanna (artisans, especially makers of jewelry) and Rada (launderers). Radala is the caste of the nobility, and afaik the only one above Govigama. They're all from highlands of Kandy, the last Sinhalese holdout against the Europeans for about 200 years. There's no nobility among the lowlanders (between the Portuguese, Dutch and British, they were either killed, assimilated or fled to Kandy) so the Govigama caste is the highest one everywhere else. This means Govigama used to be the only one that was qualified to join the Theravada Buddhist priesthood* and also receive education and job opportunities as government servants—right up until the mid-20th century, when the karava gentry turned into robber barons under the British Empire's demand for cash crops.

Karava people are the majority inhabitants in the Southern coastal lands, which are predominantly Sinhalese Buddhist, as opposed to the Tamil lands of the Northern coast (Eelam really) and the proliferation of sparsely-populated Muslim communities in the rest of the coastal belt. Karava is called the fisherfolk caste by the rest of country, despite their own strong objections. Caste is reckoned patrilineally. I'm Karava through my Dad and I married into a Karava family. Nearly every Karava person I know insists that we're actually the warrior caste and were given the coastal lands as reward for our service to the king. I'm sure there's a legitimate case to be made for this, (this site keeps being referred to me) but I don't care enough to find out because the Karava insistence that being called fisherfolk is a Govigama conspiracy is incredibly funny. I mean, it could be true, what do I know, but so much of the cope and seethe stem from our lingering inferiority complex and resentment at having been treated as inferior until a few decades ago. After being ground under the Radala and Govigama feet along with the rest for ages beyond record, suddenly us lowlanders were rolling in money from our toddy, coconut and rubber plantations, matching or surpassing the wealth of the nobility. We were chasing off Tamil and Muslim minorities to establish our own lost cultural capitals in Anuradhapura and Pollonnaruwa that predated the Kandyan kingdom and making our own sect of the Buddhist priesthood (Amarapura Nikaya) that would ordain Karava people. The robber baron types also got very chummy with the British colonial administration and were awarded cushy jobs in government over the Govigama, who still disdained industrialization and commerce. (To this day my mother's family looks down on business people no matter how rich. Merchants are considered grasping and untrustworthy.) By the time of Sri Lanka's independence from the British in 1948, we had two varieties of equally rich, snooty, virulently ethnonationalist Sinhalese elites who had gotten ahead by selling us out to the British, but with the highland Radala still believing they were too pure-blooded to mix with the hoi polloi and the lowland Karava resentful at being considered the polloi no matter how hoi they'd become. Post-independence, Sri Lanka's adoption of free education and free state universities saw masses of lowlanders, Karava, Durava and Salagama all, sending their kids to university to attain upwardly mobile careers in engineering, medicine and teaching. "If the boy is Karava he's probably in engineering" is a common joke. It's a clear shift away from our rural agrarian roots into urban sprawl and high socio-economic competition in place of social stratification.

We also have a caste of Untouchables called the Rodiya. In ancient times, you and all your family being stripped of their lands and titles and banished into the Rodi Rahaya was one of the punishments reserved for the noble houses that ran afoul of the monarchy. It condemned your entire lineage forever. This was such a dire fate that some would have favoured execution.

Rodiyas were not permitted to cross a ferry, to draw water at a well, to enter a village, to till land, or learn a trade, as no recognised caste could deal or hold intercourse with a Rodiya [...] They were forced to subsist on alms or such gifts as they might receive for protecting the fields from wild beasts or burying the carcasses of dead cattle; but they were not allowed to come within a fenced field even to beg [...] They were prohibited from wearing a cloth on their heads, and neither men nor women were allowed to cover their bodies above the waist or below the knee. If benighted they dare not lie down in a shed appropriated to other travellers, but hid themselves in caves or deserted watch-huts. Though nominally Buddhists, they were not allowed to go into a temple, and could only pray "standing afar off"

(Source)

Allegations of witchcraft and cannibalism aside, the Rodiyas themselves were known to be a proud folk that considered themselves the pure-blooded descendants of the royalty that were punished this way. Here's a Reddit post that expounds on them more, along with photographs. It seems that the strictures against covering up had fallen away between the turn of the 20th century and the '70s. Not much is known about their current living conditions, but I believe that, like India's own Untouchables and the low caste of Eelam's Tamil Hindus, they must have converted to Christianity to escape the stigma.

Casteism is still somewhat of a problem in the Sinhalese community, but it's lessening every generation. My maternal grandparents weren't entirely happy about my mother marrying my Karava father but conceded because he was an engineer with a stable career. My older cousin had to fight his Karava family to marry his school sweetheart because she was both poor and Bathgama caste (I think "Padu" might be a derogatory name for it). The fact that he succeeded is noteworthy because it would have been a huge scandal in my parents' time. The Radalas are still a bunch of insular dipshits who try to keel over and die if one of them tries to marry out. But many of them are also migrating abroad so Idk if it's too much to hope that they leave the caste shit behind when they assimilate into Western society. It certainly hasn't worked for the Brahmin Indians. But the outlook is better for the rest of us.

*There is no caste system in Buddhism. The Buddha in fact was an egalitarian social reformer who advocated against the Vedic caste system and ordained Untouchables as well as women. So obviously the Theravadin priesthood of Sri Lanka, that bastion of the Buddha's Word, would make sure that only high caste men could ever be ordained. Love the fact that the Karava social revolution just made sure they had their own sect instead of, y'know, pushing for anything more equitable. I always say that if we really want to protect Buddhism we have to abolish the Sinhalese.

[julianalvarez9]

"don't you know what you're doing to me? " "you look good with my hands around your throat." w Ruben Dias pls

attention / rúben dias

summary: wearing your brother's best friend's jersey, in normal circumstances, wouldn't mean anything other than your support for the club where your brother plays. except, you have a slightly more complicated relationship with the owner of the last name displayed in your back.

pairing: rúben dias x stones!reader

prompts: "don't you know what you're doing to me?" + "you look good with my hands around your throat" from this list.

mentions of: unestablished relationship, bit of vulgar language, implications of past sexual encounters (?

author's note: not as smuttish (? as i'd like it to be, but i loved the concept of rúben x stones!r too much 😮‍💨 if anyone has any ideas or concepts for this pair i'll work on them right away 🙏🏻

wc: 1.2k

you never really cared what you wore inside your home, which you shared with your older brother, john. it was always baggy shorts or joggers, depending on the weather, and a random shirt: more often than not, belonging to his wardrobe, fitting you like a dress due to the size difference between john and you.

but today, you did it on purpose.

you knew messing around with rúben wasn't the smartest idea: not only due to him being a footballer, which was bad enough on its own, since your brother made you swear when you were fifteen that you'd never date one, but because he was your brother's best friend.

and if the whole ordeal wasn't bad enough for you, rúben had the audacity of ghosting you for a week, before coming to see your brother, not even sparing a glance at you.

truth was, last time you two were together, his mind slipped. he had told you the infamous three words in the heat of the moment, and although you two hadn't discussed it when you finished your funny business, rúben was punishing himself for it. he knew he said it because he meant it, but he also knew that there was no possibility of you two ever getting together. that's what you had told him from the start: "1. we're not friends. 2. no feelings involved. 3. john can't know".

so, it was understandable, from an outsider's point of view, why he was trying to distance himself from you, but since rúben never told you the reason, you were pissed. rightfully pissed.

that was the reason behind today's attire: shorts and rúben's number 3 on your back.

when john saw you this morning, at breakfast, he didn't even spare a glance. he knew you had a few jerseys belonging to his teammates, including a kevin de bruyne one that you cherished with your life, almost never wearing it, only on special occasions. but john had seen you repping the dias surname on your back, and not once questioned it. not even today, when he knew that his friend would be coming to play some video games, enjoying the free day off training that the team got after the fa cup final won the day before against man united.

staying seated on the couch after breakfast, wasting time scrolling on your phone wasn't strange behavior for you, either. you stayed there until you heard your brother open the door and greeted his friend in, giving you the perfect excuse to go back to your room: they were gonna play their video games for hours, and you weren't about to be hours on end looking at a screen, enduring the angry shouts of two grown men.

you jumped up, picking up your phone and water bottle to go, just when rúben was walking onto the living room now, happily chatting to john until he saw you standing there. you waved, displaying a friendly smile on your face, even if your blood was boiling at the sight of the portuguese who couldn't even text back, but who could come to your house so shamelessly -even if he wasn't planning to see you. still, you made sure that he could see your figure disappearing when you left the room, and with it, his name clearly printed across your back.

you weren't even thinking about rúben anymore the next time that you exited your room. you simply were trying to get to the kitchen to refill your water bottle, and you did just that. yeah, it should have seemed a little strange to you that you couldn't hear any shouts from your brother's best mate, but you attributed it to the fact that he was generally calmer than john; he was competitive, but not at your brother's level. you didn't think anyone could match him, to be honest. so, it shouldn't have surprised you to find him, seated on your bed when you came back to your room, but still, it did.

"you're doing it on purpose, aren't you?" he questions, his tone not wavering once. you try not to look into his face when he gets closer, bringing you all the way into the room to close the door behind you softly, as to not raise suspicions. when you murmur a soft "i don't know what you're talking about" you can't see how his browns crease due to your gaze being focused on the ceiling above to avoid his eyes. he can still see the lie painted all across your face, and most importantly, the proof resting on your figure, so he forcefully angles your face by your jaw to finally connect his brown eyes with yours.

the act takes you by surprise, and you shove his hand out of your face. "what the fuck, rúben!?" you whisper-shout, and you worry when you remember your brother's not too far away from the room in which you two are in.

he scoffed. "don't ignore me now" rúben scolds, and you roll your eyes at him, annoyed, which only infuriates him more. he has to stop his desire to smash his mouth into yours, because after a week, he does think he'd be able to stop, not even when his best friend could walk in on you any minute. "acting innocent now," he continues, holding onto your waist with a bruising force. "don't you know what you're doing to me? flaunting my name on your back" he says, tugging your shirt one, two, three times, with so much force you think he's gonna rip it off your body. "while i can't do anything about it?".

you laugh bitterly at his argument. "well, that's entirely your fault, big boy".

the mocking way you use to refer to him has him laughing bitterly and throwing his head back in resignation. "how is it my fault?", rúben questions, and it's like he genuinely doesn't know, which only fuels your anger more. "i don't know, maybe try not messing around with your best mate's little sister and then ghost her for a week, right?".

"stop with the attitude," he scolds, and his hand, previously grasping your cheeks to get your full attention, slides down your throat, pressing onto it lightly. you gasp at the small pressure, and his eyes shine with lust. "you look good with my hands around your throat, did you know that?".

he grins when your whimper at his filthy praise, and you use the small moment of distraction to reach for the back of his neck to draw him in. its been a couple of days now, longer than it has ever been since your little arrangement started, at least, so the kiss is anything but gentle, tongue and teeth clashing against each other. you know that, if you continue this path, your floor will be covered with your clothes and his, so yo need to stop it, with the last bit of clear judgment you have in your brain. "we're not fucking with my brother in the next room".

he laughs against your neck, and it has your neck erupting in goosebumps with the way his hot breath fan across your skin. "who said anything about fucking?" he asks, continuing with the neck kisses after the rhetorical question, and his touches leave you forgetting everything, including that your brother is probably looking for him.

"i won the game, rúben! 5-0!" john screams, and by the way it sounds so far away, you can breathe since he's still in the living room. "where the fuck are you?".